


Days are Numbers

by Drachenkinder



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Day 4 Free Day July 8th, M/M, Rough Sex, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 18:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drachenkinder/pseuds/Drachenkinder
Summary: Loki is maneuvering for power grab on Sakaar, but things don't go as he planned.





	Days are Numbers

Loki paced the luxurious confines of his quarters. Thick indigo carpet muffling his agitated steps. He paused before the solid window that looked over the eastern side of the tower. Sakaar city, which bore the same name as this dump of a planet, spread in all its garish squalor below. Loki worried his thumb, picking at the nailbed as he watched one of the scrapper ships dock, its landing lights flashing from red to blue against the brilliant illumination of city at night. He hit the heavy glass in frustration. Five weeks of careful maneuvering, lost. It had looked like he was getting somewhere. This past week he was sure of it. The dull bass thump he could hear overhead told him the band was tuning up in the Audience Chamber. The one were the Grandmaster made all his formal announcements. A formal announcement that he didn’t want Loki to be present at. He furrowed his brow and started pacing again. He thought back over the events of the day trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.

******

The late morning sun backlit the heavy curtains and its light managed to seep around one edge that Loki hadn’t drawn all the way shut the night before. Or else En had looked out on his domain before he left. Loki was never sure how long he stayed, or even if The Grandmaster actually slept. Loki threw one arm over his eyes to block the unwanted light. He thought about getting up and decided to stay where he was. He took inventory of his body to assess the damage left by the previous night’s indulgencies. He thought about how quickly this had become a habit now that he was sharing, or like tonight, the Grandmaster was sharing his… oh to hell with the euphemisms, who did he think he was fooling… now that the insane ruler of this hell hole was fucking his ass to unconsciousness every night. 

Because, Loki told himself, that’s all it was. Fucking. Sex. The oldest exchange in the universe, trading breeding rights for resources. Thank the Norns breeding wasn’t actually part of what they were doing. Not that he wouldn’t put it past the Elder to try something like that, should the idea occur to him. And not that he didn’t have the magic to ensure it would happen. But Loki was pretty sure En had no intention of littering the universe with little copies of himself. En was all about pleasure and entertainment and offspring were neither.

His asshole was sore of course, En always started out slow and gentle but by the end of the night he went at it with all the finesse and consideration of a jackhammer. His cock felt like he’d been screwing sandpaper. Besides not sleeping, the Grandmaster also had no concept of recovery time. He seemed to think that Loki was holding back, not that his body simply couldn’t do any more, even augmented by seidr. That was another thing to consider. His magic felt frayed around the edges from using it to keep pace with the bastard. He hadn’t meant to, but that first night En’s attention had started to wander after the third round and Loki didn’t want to lose his interest just because he couldn’t get his cock hard fast enough. He’d spent too much effort weaseling his way into the Grandmaster’s affections to have his prick fail the Elder’s expectations. 

The problem was it set a high bar he was expected to better every succeeding night. The trick to holding his attention, Loki knew, was to be novel. That and never refusing whatever En wanted to do, or do to him. Last evening’s entertainment had finished with him hanging his head off the edge off the bed so his throat could be fucked raw, his lips battered till they split. 

Anyway, he had suffered nothing that wouldn’t be healed by the time he made his usual appearance at the evening’s festivities. Nothing that wouldn’t be healed except for his self-esteem. It was one thing turning yourself into a whore for a secure place in the hierarchy of the ruthless competition that was Sakaarian politics. It was another thing, he thought, to find out that you loved being that whore.

Last night he’d been in total ecstasy, his hands clenched in the Grandmaster’s robe urging him on, as he was being slowly strangled by the thick length En pounded into him. The elder leaning over him and gently stoking his aching cock. Feeding his own magic into Loki’s body to keep him going. Loki dry orgasming again and again till he had literally blacked out from lack of oxygen. And all the while the Grandmaster telling him how beautiful he was, how talented, how he was a prize beyond all others.

That he craved that aspect of their interactions more than any other, frightened him. The physical he could discount. Sex, in all its variations was meant to feel good. But his naked need for approval that En both kindled and fulfilled was troubling. 

He roused himself out of bed before he indulged in any more self-flagellation. It didn’t matter how he felt. It didn’t matter what he did. Survival mattered. Influence mattered. When he had the Grandmaster so enamored he could no longer think of living without him, he would either rule through him or find a way to kill the man who was making his life so sweetly wrong. Either way he would be king.

Better to be the biggest rat in this trash heap, then a shadow of his brother elsewhere.

He gulped at the automatic second part of his thought. Thor was dead. His last sight, before he was cast into the space between stars, was Hela attacking his brother. Thor hadn’t been able to best her with his hammer. Without it, Loki knew he’d been killed. 

He sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and said the prayer for the dead, for Thor. As he did every morning since he’d fallen onto Sakaar. Not for his father. Odin was as responsible for Thor’s death as Hela was. Odin could languish in Niflhel for all of eternity and he still wouldn’t have suffered enough.

Loki had had no way to leave this planet we he’d first arrived. No knowledge of where he was or how to get home. His first week he’d spent fighting to save himself, initially from the scrappers searching for new arrivals, then from the savages roaming the wastelands. After he made it to the city he was fighting subtler battles with those who would see him fail in his desperate pursuit of power. 

Once he’d intended to use that power differently. He’d meant to gain enough power to raise an army and take back his homeland. Destroy the sister who had killed the one person he hated and loved enough to make life worth living. Now it all seemed a pointless waste. It wouldn’t bring back Thor. The people of Asgard despised him. He’d ruled as Odin, not Loki. Loki was the monster, the one who’d tried to kill an entire planet and who’d invaded a peaceful realm leading a foreign army. The one who usurped the throne with magic and made fools out of them. Asgard would never accept him. Let Hela rule. They deserved each other. 

He’d showered and dressed and called for lunch to be delivered. After eating he’d gone to the workroom where the Grandmaster looked after the daily business of running a planet. It was true, that En had so streamlined the system over thousands, maybe millions of years that he really didn’t need to bother with it for months at a time, but he liked to know what was going on. Liked to keep his fingers on the pulse of the world as he’d once said to Loki.

The first time he hunted out the Grandmaster during his business hours, it had annoyed the ruler until he realized that Loki was not simply there to flatter him with pretended curiosity, but was someone who could understand and appreciate the intricacies of his system of governing. He had been intrigued that Loki was sincerely interested in this facet of his regime. Members of his court were more concerned with currying his favor, than bothering with the actual functions of being a ruler.

Loki however had been trained in how to run a kingdom that encompassed several planets. During his many years as a prince he’d tackled trade wars and real wars, draw up treaties, arraigned for the distribution of supplies both in times of conflict and natural disaster, lead raiding parties and rescue missions, and leaned everything about his home world, from the linages and alliances of the great houses of the Aesir and Vanir, to the routing of the major plumbing systems in the capitol city.

In Odin’s guise he’d convinced the council to inaugurate radical new policies that encouraged self-rule for the once vassal realms and a trade based, rather than a tribute based alliance. Those policies had shaken some of the former totalitarian puppets off their thrones and Loki had been busy keeping the turmoil to an acceptable level, till their people sorted out their own futures. He’d kept Aesir involvement to a minimum, offering only humanitarian relief. He’d done so both to save his own people’s lives and to be sure that a neutral Asgard would be able to work with whomever came to power. What Thor saw as chaos, Loki saw as a fight for freedom. Ever had they differed. 

That was all moot now. A new queen ruled in Asgard and no doubt they were happy to return to their old authoritarian power structures.  
This was his world now, and it was their daily interaction over the actual ruling of Sakaar that had let Loki finally believe he had enough of a hold on the Grandmaster to allow himself to be taken as a lover. En had certainly expressed interest on their very first meeting, but he didn’t push it and seemed amused that Loki, for all his ambition hadn’t taken him up on the offer. He wanted the Grandmaster to value him for more than his social skill at parties and his competence in the bedroom. 

The afternoon had gone well. They talked about encouraging settlement on the southern banks of the river that edged the city and the cost of guarding the area against attacks by the savage feral bands from the wastelands. Loki thought settlement there would be more effective since the population could access the river for easy transport of goods and they would serve as a barrier to stop raiders striking deeper into the capitol city. En thought that the cost of protecting them might not make financial sense. They’d agreed that a small trial outpost would be better than full commitment at this juncture.

He and Loki had also discussed the daily training and injury reports on the gladiators and revised some of the upcoming matches to make for better balanced contests. They’d done a bit of flirting and exchanged some barbed gossip about En’s courtiers. Loki was of the opinion everything was going well, when, as they were leaving the Grandmaster had suddenly turned to him with his serious face on. The one Loki could never read. 

“Lolo,” he’d said. “It would be… nice, well nicer... if you didn’t come with me to the party.”

Loki had recoiled in shock. This was how the Grandmaster got rid of his paramours when he was bored of them. First they were cut out of the round of social events. Then they would be snubbed by his court of followers. If they were smart they packed up their bags and left the capital. If they weren’t, and tried to push back into the Grandmaster’s affections, they ended up dead. Often right on the spot.

The Grandmaster had smiled at Loki’s frozen reaction, and patted him on the arm. “Hey Sweetums… it’s not the end of the world... I need you to stay away… stay in your rooms tonight. Hmmm?”

“Of course.” Loki had managed. “I only wish to make you happy En.”

But the Grandmaster was no longer paying attention to him. He’d already turned and was walking away without replying. So Loki had obeyed and returned to his rooms. Waiting for whatever fate the mad ruler of Sakaar had planned for him. 

******

Pacing, his mind racing from one possibility to another. At best it would be a public disavowal of their budding relationship, at worst. A public execution. How would he disable the guards? Would his illusions hold against En’s own magic long enough for him to flee the city? And then what? Try for a place in the household of some provincial baron? He was so tired of failing, of his plans falling to ruin on the cusp of their success.

He leaned his head on the wall and sighed. Not anymore. He was exhausted. Let the Grandmaster do as he wished. Live or die it was no longer in his hands. He walked to the sofa and lay down, hands clasped on his chest and staring sightlessly at the pale blue ceiling. Feeling a deep sense of relief. In an hour or two it would be all over. He listened without emotion to the sounds overhead, the faint murmur that upstairs would be a noisy chatter. The low steady thump of the drums as the band played. He wondered if En had chosen a song for him tonight. He hoped so. Hoped he had meant enough that he’d get his own music to die or be banished to. A silly bit of vanity Loki knew. Like wanting to watch your own funeral to see who mourned you. In his case it would be no one.

A knock on the door had startled him out of his maudlin reflections. Loki sat up and called “Enter.”

A servant entered with a set of clothing in his hands. “The Grandmaster wishes you to ready yourself for his presence and to don these garments.” He? She? They? It was impossible to tell with the Vifem. The Vifem hung the garments in his dressing room and withdrew, bowing so deeply its tall head feathers brushed the carpet.

Loki walked over and examined the suit. Fine leather armor made in the style he was accustomed to, but in the Grandmaster’s colors of deep blue accented with touches of gold. A flowing blue cape lined with golden silk. Double layered boots that gleamed. The geometric designs reflected those of Sakaar, and the leather was softer and thinner than his normal wear. The clothing was a blending of both his and the Grandmaster’s tastes. He was puzzled. Why would the Grandmaster forbid him the party and at the same time gift him with such an obvious sign of his approval? Hope, that most traitorous emotion, started to grow in his heart.

Loki shook his head. It didn’t matter what he thought. He didn’t have enough information to know if he’d been forgiven for whatever he’d done or if this was a bizarre joke with his death as the punch line. He removed his old clothing and got dressed in the new outfit. He admired how the supple leather fit him like a second skin. He rubbed light scented pomade into his hair and combed it back into inky waves that glistened and fell softly to his shoulders. Whatever he was facing he’d look his best for it.

Loki heard the door to his rooms open and he recognized the soft uneven tread that was the Grandmaster’s. He stepped out of the dressing room and crossed to meet him, keeping a neutral expression on his face. He noticed that the usual guards were taking their stations outside in the hall, just out of earshot.

“Grandmaster.” Loki said with a slight bow of his head.

“Lolo!” the Elder responded and embraced him with a quick hug before holding him at arm’s length and giving him a long slow look from heel to head. “I knew this was the look for you!”

“I’m grateful you thought of me Grandmaster.” Loki said warily, still uncertain of where this encounter was going.

“Why so glum? You know I don’t like glum.” The Elder pouted. “And so formal… What happened to ‘En’, Lolo?”

“I believed you no longer wanted the familiarity.” Loki answered. “When you expressed your wish for me to avoid your company this evening.” Loki’s tongue touched his lips, there was a sudden unexpected ache in his heart. “I thought perhaps…” he trailed off, unable to finish.  
Why was he tearing up now? This was a disaster. He knew the only way to entertain the Grandmaster was to keep it light and playful. But now while he stood on the crux of maintaining his position and losing everything, he was sabotaging his own plans with stupid sentimentality.

“Lolo?” the concern in En’s voice broke down his paper thin barriers and Loki blurted.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore. I thought you were going to send me away, kill me…”

He lowered his head and covered his face with his hands as tears ran down his face. Tears of loneliness, of grief and of sorrow. Tears for his lost brother, his lost homeland, for all his stupid failed plans to prove himself. Even tears for the shattered relationship with his parents. Tears for this final lost attempt. He expected to hear the Grandmaster leave, racing away from this dismal pet who offended him with its dull mood.

“Oh Lolo, no baby.” Instead he felt the long arms wrap around him and pull him to the Grandmaster’s chest, his head on the Elder's shoulder. Loki clung to him and sobbed.

“Lolo, I told you you’re a treasure… my treasure…” En’s voice was soothing in his ears “once in a million years someone like you shows up… I’m not letting you go… not letting you slip through my fingers.”

“You don’t know me.” Loki protested. “You don’t know what I was planning.”

“I know what you want Lolo... Power? Am I right?” En stroked his hair. “All your plotting and planning… You want to rule here... want to be in charge?”

Loki nodded, though he knew he was signing his own death warrant.

“You are so clever Lolo… no one moves this quick up the social ladder… but you did... I’m impressed.” En nuzzled his hair. “You don’t have to steal power baby… It’s yours … Rule with me.”

“WHAT?” Loki pulled away from the elder in surprise. “You want me to what?” 

“Be my queen…That’s why I didn’t want you upstairs baby.” En pulled him close again. “To get the arrangements set up… so the decorations were just right… Say you will Lolo.”

“I.. I,” He looked into En’s eyes and saw only love. Love for him, as he was. Not something to be earned, something he had to live up to, but something freely given. A lifeline he only had to grasp. There would be conditions he knew. But they were the kind he’d thrive under. He dried his tears. Took a deep breath and answered formally. “I would be honored to rule by your side, En Dwi Gast.”

Then he grabbed En in a fierce embrace and kissed him hard enough to bruise both their lips. 

******

A while later he stood outside the doorway to the Audience Chamber next to a happy and relaxed Grandmaster. The walls inside the great room were lined with the highest ranking citizens of Sakaar.

Loki was dead. Loki died when Thor died. That life was over. It was time to reinvent himself again.

He lifted his head as En took his hand and lead him into the grand hall and past the hushed assembled court. To the two elaborate thrones that sat on the raised dais. He was Lolo now. The prized treasure of the Grandmaster. The Bitch Queen of Sakaar. He mounted the dais and glanced around at the collection of sycophants he now ruled. He saw their barely concealed envy and hate. He smirked. He would enjoy teaching these bastards who was in charge now. Yes, in his consorts words. “They were going to have so much fun."

*********

Days Are Numbers (The Traveller)  
By Alan Parsons

The traveler is always leaving town  
He never has the time to turn around  
And if the road he's taken isn't leading anywhere  
He seems to be completely unaware

The traveler is always leaving home  
The only kind of life he's ever known  
When every moment seems to be  
A race against the time  
There's always one more mountain left to climb

Days are numbers  
Watch the stars  
We can only see so far  
Someday, you'll know where you are

Remember  
Days are numbers  
Count the stars  
We can only go so far  
One day, you'll know where you are

The traveler awaits the morning tide  
He doesn't know what's on the other side  
But something deep inside of him  
Keeps telling him to go  
He hasn't found a reason to say no

The traveler is only passing through  
He cannot understand your point of view  
Abandoning reality, unsure of what he'll find  
The traveler in me is close behind  
Days are numbers

Watch the stars  
We can only see so far  
Someday, you'll know where you are  
Remember  
Days are numbers  
Count the stars  
We can only go so far  
One day, you'll know where you are

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be the jewelry story, but of course the characters grabbed the plot away from me and took it elsewhere. Look a happy ending. How did that happen.


End file.
